


I wanna be with you forever (and even longer than that)

by teddy_or_something



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Bokuto Koutarou, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Getting Back Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mentioned Kozume Kenma, PICK YOUR POISON, POV Akaashi Keiji, Post-Break Up, Rimming, Smut, Top Akaashi Keiji, because we need more of him in our lives, copious (probably over) use of italics, oh oh oh!, one of these chapters ends in fluff, seriously so fucking angsty, the other ends in smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_or_something/pseuds/teddy_or_something
Summary: Akaashi breaks up with Bokuto, but let's be honest here-- those two can never be apart for too long.(Please read the author's note, I am literally BEGGING you to read the author's note)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	1. fluffy ending

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So you probably read in the bio that I wanted you to read the author's note, and here's why:
> 
> As you may have seen in the tags, this story has two chapters, HOWEVER, they're both the same story. The first chapter ends with fluff. The second one, however, ends with smut. That's why this fic isn't rated. The first chapter can be sufficiently labeled as "Teen & Up Audiences," but the second one is full out explicit. You can totally read both, but if you'd rather not dive into their sexy times right now, the first chapter is your oyster. If you do want to, however, you can skip right on ahead to chapter 2. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this a/n, and I hope you like the fic!!<333

The first thing that Akaashi feels when he walks out of Bokuto's apartment is a stifling sort of heat deep in his chest. He feels suffocated, as if he can't breathe. It takes him a moment to realize that he actually _isn't_ breathing, another to force himself to take a few deep breaths as he grips tightly onto the handle of his car door, and another to finally open it and drive away.

The next thing he feels, as he's turning onto his street, is regret. He feels it down to his fingertips, feels it in the way that his car jerks when he very nearly makes a u-turn, feels it in the jaws that he's clenching to keep himself from making said u-turn and heading right back to Bokuto's apartment, right into Bokuto's arms (where he belongs).

It weighs him down as he carries himself up the six flights of stairs to his own apartment, causes a never ending trembling in his hands that's preventing him from putting his key into the lock and opening the door. He tries not to unload another emotion onto himself, but he just can't help the frustration that he feels when his key gets stuck in the lock and just. won't. come. out- _damn it._

Normally, when he's feeling like this, he'd just call Bokuto to calm him down. Obviously, that can't happen now, with what he just did, and this thought causes an entirely new wave of emotion to crash over him. Along with even more frustration, he feels a bit of anger, a lot of loneliness, and perhaps most importantly:

Guilt.

He feels it bubbling in his stomach, making him want to throw up with the intensity of it. He finally gets the door open and staggers into his apartment, hardly remembering to close it behind him. He plops onto his couch in the dark, letting the crushing weight of his own emotions wash over him. 

It’s absurd for him to want Bokuto to console him after what he did. After he ended their relationship so they could _"focus on their careers."_ After he ignored his pleas for him to stay. After he destroyed something good simply because of his own self-centeredness- because he didn’t think they could do long distance while Bokuto was out playing volleyball all around the world.

It’s selfish, _he’s_ selfish. He’s always been selfish, always been a control-freak, always been unwilling to consider the fact that Bokuto is just as much an adult as he is. He can’t go back. He can’t be with Bokuto again. He’s not good enough. He doesn’t deserve him. Bokuto deserves someone who will treat him with respect and let him make his own decisions. He doesn’t deserve Akaashi-- smart-ass, overbearing, inadequate Akaashi. Akaashi, who will end a relationship without even thinking about how the other will feel, without even caring. Who will walk out on him without looking back. God, it was so stupid. Why did he do that? Why did he leave? Because they wouldn’t be able to deal with the distance between them? No, _Akaashi_ wouldn’t be able to deal with the distance between them. It was all about him, all of it, and he hates it, hates _himself_ , because how could he do that to the love of his life? How cruel can one person be?

The guilt lasts for days, weeks, _months_ , until Akaashi is hurting so badly that he can't bear it anymore. He can't stand the loneliness, the feeling of coming home to cold sheets and a clean kitchen. He can't stand seeing his shoes sitting neatly by the door, unbothered by anyone carelessly placing theirs beside his', and he also can't stand the fact that there are no shoes beside his'. 

Over time, his feelings become a muddled mess, but every time he comes home to his clean, impeccable apartment, the mess of his feelings begin to disappear too. 

He goes about his days feeling no sadness and no happiness, no pain and no excitement. He just wakes, eats, works, sleeps, and repeats. He doesn't mope, doesn't blow up at anxious interns just trying to do their jobs, doesn't laugh, doesn't cry, doesn't feel.

He feels nothing, and he can't say that he hates it.

It isn't until he's talking with Kenma about Bokuto making it to the Olympics that the shock of what happened just six months ago sets in and he really begins to fathom what happened. The emotion hits him like a serve to the face, and he feels a horrible sense of déjà vu when he struggles to breathe and tries to understand what it is that he's feeling. It takes him a few hours to realize that he's grieving. 

It's really quite odd that he hadn't done it yet, honestly. It's been months. This should be done and over with by now. Yet, here he is, lying in bed and clutching a pillow to his chest as silent sobs rack his body. He almost can't believe that Bokuto is not with him, and that he will never get him back. 

He thinks back to all the nights they spent wrapped up in each other, all of the laughs they shared, all of the firsts they experienced together-- first date, first kiss, first love. He reminisces on their first year together, the days when Akaashi would spend his weekends at Bokuto’s apartment, when they’d text each other so much that it felt like they were still going to the same school, when Akaashi finally graduated high school and they were able to see each other whenever they wanted. 

He wonders what happened to those days, when his feelings of unworthiness began to settle in, when he began to tell himself over and over that he was not good enough for Bokuto. He supposes that it’s always been that way. After all, who could possibly be good enough for a star like him? Another star, perhaps. But Akaashi wasn’t one. He was a mere human, blessed to be in the presence of such a blinding phenomenon. 

But he gave it up-- gave all of it up. All because he didn’t want to try to make it work. His stomach twists with self-loathing, and all there is to do is cry. 

When his tears have finally run dry and his eyes are permanently swollen, he stands up from his bed and goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. He doesn't spare a look in the mirror as he blows his nose and washes his face, instead focusing on the hot water on his skin. _Hot water, hmm?_ he thinks. _Maybe I should take a nice, hot shower._

And that's exactly what he does.

The shower works wonders for the tension in his muscles, easing him into a state of total relaxation and warming his frozen heart. He stands under the water for long minutes, just feeling it on his skin, before he actually begins to wash up. While he does so, he lets his mind wander to a place that it hasn't been in half a year. He wonders how Bokuto is doing, how excited he is to be going to the 2021 Olympics, what his face looked like when he heard the news. He wonders if he hugged the person closest to him (he desperately wishes that he had been that person), if he shouted _Hey! Hey! Hey!_ in that boisterous voice of his, or if he got the news alone in an empty apartment with nothing but pictures to celebrate with him.

Akaashi quickly quells that thought, as it only makes him feel guilty for not having been there with him. 

He is so blissed out that he even contemplates calling Bokuto, but after careful consideration, he settles for just texting him instead. It's simple, but sincere.

**to: Bokuto-san**

_Congrats on making it to the Olympics, Ace xx_

He waits no longer than two minutes for a reply. He tries not to think about the fact that Bokuto may very well be spending this time on his phone instead of celebrating this accomplishment with the people he loves.

**from: Bokuto-san**

_thanks, kaashi!!_

Akaashi does not read too closely into the next message that he sends, opting to leave his brain out of the conversation for once.

**to: Bokuto-san**

_Are you free right now?_

Yet again, Bokuto replies in an instant. 

**from: Bokuto-san**

_sure am! all my friends ditched me :'(_

The message makes Akaashi frown, and before he knows it, he's sitting in an Izakaya having drinks and yakiniku with Bokuto Koutarou, top ranked wing spiker, Olympic level volleyball player, his ex-boyfriend, and the love of his life.

They make light conversation, getting used to the feeling of being in the same space as each other again, though this phase does not last long. Soon, they’re exchanging banter like old times, reminiscing on their high school days and their shared memories. Bokuto regales him with hyperbolic accounts of his times with the Black Jackals, and in turn Akaashi humors him with stories of Tenma-san working on Zom’bish, to which Bokuto responds with much more laughter than is strictly necessary.

They carefully avoid speaking about the three-year time period that they were together. 

Despite the obvious elephant in the room that they are both utterly choosing to ignore, they have a great time together. It’s almost as if no time has passed, but Akaashi knows it has. He can feel the tension pulsating in the air, though neither of them speaks on it. If it were anyone else that he was having drinks with, Akaashi would consider the night to have been perfect. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was Bokuto, and the knowledge that they would never be as close as they once were feels like a knife in his chest, though he knows he deserves it.

Yet, he can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope at the prospect of spending time with Bokuto again. Even if they couldn’t be together, they could be friends, and Akaashi would learn to live with that if it meant having the owl haired man back in his life.

So the next week, when he sees Bokuto again for coffee (or hot chocolate in Bokuto’s case), he tells himself that it’s enough. The week after that, when they meet up with their old high school friends for dinner to congratulate Bokuto on making it to the Olympics, he tells himself that it’s enough. He tells himself that it’s enough when he shares his umbrella with Bokuto during the walk to the train station, tells himself that it’s enough when he opens his apartment door and is greeted with an empty bed, tells himself it’s enough when he makes plans to see Bokuto yet again the following week for lunch. It’s not enough, it _isn’t,_ but he’s not about to ruin this thing they have going on, not again.

Especially not when he’s feeling so blindingly happy at the moment. 

He doesn’t know when the numbness began to fade away, when emotion began to filter back into his system, yet here he is, smiling at one of the interns when he walks into work that day, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation when he sees that Kenma is doing a twelve-hour live stream on his youtube channel, blushing ever-so-slightly when Bokuto exclaims _"You’re the best, Akaashi!”_ after he pays for coffee that day.

He’s happy. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but he is. Ever since Bokuto reentered his life, he’s felt invincible, like he could take on the world if he wanted to. For once, he doesn’t think about the things going wrong in his life, doesn’t scold Tenma-san for getting too close for comfort to a deadline, doesn’t wish that he could have more. He’s happy now, feels it in every fibre of his being, hears it in every word that he speaks, sees it every time he looks at himself in the mirror.

The feeling doesn’t fade when he meets Bokuto for drinks that night, or when they decide to head back to his apartment to watch a movie. They walk together in the moonlight, making their way to the train station. Akaashi lets Bokuto lead, though he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t still remember what stop to get off at, what streets to take to get to his building, what floor his apartment is on. 

He settles onto the (oh-so familiar) couch while Bokuto heads into the kitchen to grab them a few snacks and scrolls through Netflix to find something to watch. He hasn’t yet decided between his two options when Bokuto comes and sits down next to him, a bit too close to be considered friendly, but far enough away that it isn’t inherently romantic either. Akaashi pretends that he doesn’t notice the way their knees brush together whenever one of them shifts, which also means that he doesn’t move away to stop it from happening. He isn’t quite ready to leave by the time the movie ends, and by the looks of it, Bokuto isn’t either, seeing as he immediately goes to turn on another one. 

Halfway through the movie, Bokuto falls asleep. His head has somehow found its way into Akaashi’s lap, and Akaashi’s hand is gently carding through his hair as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It isn’t. Akaashi doesn’t realize this, however, until his lips are halfway to Bokuto’s temple, ready to kiss him in his sleep. He nearly jerks back, but he doesn’t want to disturb the man’s rest, so he controls himself long enough to sit up slowly, carefully shifting so that Bokuto’s head is no longer in his lap. He stands quietly, cautiously, and walks over to where his shoes are waiting for him, but when he goes to open the door, Bokuto stops him in his tracks. 

“‘Kaashi?” he says quietly, golden eyes blinking open to peer at him in the dark. “What’re you doing?” 

Akaashi sighs. This is exactly what he’d been trying to prevent from happening. “I’m leaving, Bokuto-san.”

“Why?” 

“I-” Akaashi stops. It’s quite the question. Why _is_ he leaving? “It’s late.”

Bokuto blinks and sits up, eyes flickering over to the glowing clock on the oven. The time reads 2:52. “How are you going to get home?” Akaashi has no answer for this. Bokuto knows. “Listen, just stay the night. You can sleep on the couch, if you want. Or you can sleep in the bed with me.” He pauses. Akaashi wonders if he notices his incredulous expression. He probably doesn’t. It’s quite dark in here. “Actually, you probably should sleep in the bed with me. This couch is kinda uncomfortable,” he says.

Akaashi’s eyes flicker towards the door once more. “Bokuto-san, I couldn’t-”

“Akaashi,” he cuts him off. “Come sleep in the bed. We’re friends, right?” Akaashi wonders if he isn’t imagining the sadness in Bokuto’s voice as he says it. He hopes he is, because he hates it.

“Of course, Bokuto-san,” he says. “Can you lend me something to sleep in, then?”

He sees Bokuto nod in the darkness and follows him back to his bedroom. Bokuto hands him a shirt and a pair of shorts to change into, and it takes Akaashi less than two seconds to realize that they’re his own, left here nearly eight months ago (along with his heart). The shirt is large and smells like Bokuto, but the shorts fit perfectly, just as they always did. He walks over to the bed and finds Bokuto sitting on the edge, waiting for him. 

“You could’ve gone to sleep,” he whispers.

He just barely makes out Bokuto’s half smile in the darkness. “I wanted to make sure the clothes fit.”

Akaashi’s face melds into a half smile of its own. The atmosphere is entirely too reminiscent of the nights they spent together just months ago, and he struggles to fight the impulse to walk over and begin cuddling with Bokuto like he would have then. Instead, he stays standing, peering at him through the shadows. 

“Well these _are_ my shorts,” he says.

Bokuto chuckles, a hollow thing, humorless. “Yeah, you left them here when you-” he cuts himself off as if he can’t bear to say the words aloud. Akaashi doesn’t blame him; he doesn’t think he’d be able to hear them either. 

“Yeah…” he trails off. He doesn’t know what to say.

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because now Bokuto is standing up, is walking towards him, is bringing his hands up to grab his waist, moving them up to his chest, his shoulders, the sides of his neck, and finally, his jaw. He leans forward, holding his forehead to Akaashi’s, looking him in the eyes. 

“Akaashi,” he whispers, but in the tense silence of the room, it’s as good as a shout. “Akaashi, I love you. I loved you for so long and I still love you. I think about you _every day- _”__

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi can feel a tear drip down to his hand. He’s not sure if it's his’ or Bokuto’s. It doesn’t matter. 

_“Keiji,”_ he says, so brokenly that Akaashi wonders how he could do this to him, Bokuto Koutarou, the kindest, most sincere man in the world. 

And just like that, his feelings from all those months ago start coming back, one by one. Regret, frustration, guilt, and grief all take turns battering away at his heart, pulling him further away from reality, deeper into the hole that he’d fallen into when he first left Bokuto’s apartment. Over and over, new waves of emotion overtake him, but just as he’s about to decide that he needs to pull away from Bokuto, needs to leave before he puts himself in the position to hurt him again, another emotion makes itself known. 

Greed.

He feels greedy in the way that he looks at Bokuto, like he just can’t get enough, like he wants more despite what he did to him. He thinks back to the times when he tried to convince himself that his friendship was enough, knowing deep down that he would always yearn for something deeper. He feels greedy because he knew that he should never have agreed to come here tonight, but he did anyway because he wanted to- _needed to_ see Bokuto like this again, lounging on the couch, preparing snacks in the kitchen, lying with his head in Akaashi’s lap.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel greedy right now, with Bokuto’s hand cupping his face, his eyes looking at him so vulnerably, so _lovingly_ , like he’d give Akaashi the world if he just asked, like he knows that Akaashi would do the same, and in a heartbeat. He’s right, of course. He always is, one way or another.

The greed is all encompassing, sweeping up every ounce of longing that he’s ever felt for Bokuto and shoving it into his chest all at once, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to even speak until he acknowledges it. And Akaashi wants to, he _so_ wants to, but he can’t, not yet, because even with Bokuto practically throwing himself at him, uncertainty claws at his throat, holding him back. He has to ask him, _has_ to ask him if he’s wanting more than he’s willing to give, even though he knows that the answer is no, even when he knows that Bokuto will happily take everything that Akaashi gives him and even demand more, because Bokuto is greedy too, and that’s what makes the two of them so fucking _perfect_ together. 

He looks up into Bokuto’s glassy eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, because he knows, of course he does, but he needs a verbal confirmation.

“Yes, yes I’m sure,” he says. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I love you so _much-_ ”

Akaashi’s expression breaks, and a look of pure anguish settles over his features. “I’m so sorry, Kou, I-”

Bokuto shakes his head, kissing him once, twice, then pulling him over to the bed. They lie down facing each other, soaking the pillows with their tears.

Bokuto is the first to speak. “I forgive you, you know,” he says, smiling. “I understand, and I forgive you.”

“Koutarou,” he says, as if it's the only word he knows (it’s the only one that matters, anyway). He reaches out, and then Bokuto is holding him, just like before. He’s back in his arms, the heat emanating off of him enough to warm Akaashi for a lifetime. Akaashi hugs back just as tightly, tangling their legs together and silently vowing to never let go of him again. “I love you, I’m so sorry, I love you so much.”

“I know, ‘Kaashi,” replies Bokuto. Akaashi knows it’s true without him saying it.

He pulls away from the embrace just to lean back in and kiss the taller man. Their tongues move together slowly. There’s no rush. They have all the time in the world to savor the taste of one another. Though it’s just one kiss, Akaashi feels it down to his fingertips, feels it everywhere. The kiss is a promise, he knows. A promise never to be apart again.

Lying in bed with the love of his life, Akaashi feels free. He finally feels free to love him in every way that he knows how, knows that Bokuto isn’t going anywhere, no matter how much distance is put between them. He wishes that he’d had this faith in the beginning, that all of this hadn’t needed to happen for him to feel like this. _But_ , he supposes, _such is life._ He looks over at Bokuto, who’s currently kissing each knuckle on his left hand with a dopey grin on his face, and smiles.

Yeah, such is life, indeed.


	2. Explicit Version

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, this is the explicit version of this fic (and actually the first version I wrote, even though I went into this fully intending to write fluff). This is actually my first time writing full smut (I usually only go so far as hand and blowjobs before I stop), so this is quite a new experience. Let me know if you enjoyed it!

The first thing that Akaashi feels when he walks out of Bokuto's apartment is a stifling sort of heat deep in his chest. He feels suffocated, as if he can't breathe. It takes him a moment to realize that he actually _isn't_ breathing, another to force himself to take a few deep breaths as he grips tightly onto the handle of his car door, and another to finally open it and drive away.

The next thing he feels, as he's turning onto his street, is regret. He feels it down to his fingertips, feels it in the way that his car jerks when he very nearly makes a u-turn, feels it in the jaws that he's clenching to keep himself from making said u-turn and heading right back to Bokuto's apartment, right into Bokuto's arms (where he belongs).

It weighs him down as he carries himself up the six flights of stairs to his own apartment, causes a never ending trembling in his hands that's preventing him from putting his key into the lock and opening the door. He tries not to unload another emotion onto himself, but he just can't help the frustration that he feels when his key gets stuck in the lock and just. won't. come. out- _damn it._

Normally, when he's feeling like this, he'd just call Bokuto to calm him down. Obviously, that can't happen now, with what he just did, and this thought causes an entirely new wave of emotion to crash over him. Along with even more frustration, he feels a bit of anger, a lot of loneliness, and perhaps most importantly:

Guilt.

He feels it bubbling in his stomach, making him want to throw up with the intensity of it. He finally gets the door open and staggers into his apartment, hardly remembering to close it behind him. He plops onto his couch in the dark, letting the crushing weight of his own emotions wash over him. 

It’s absurd for him to want Bokuto to console him after what he did. After he ended their relationship so they could _"focus on their careers."_ After he ignored his pleas for him to stay. After he destroyed something good simply because of his own self-centeredness- because he didn’t think they could do long distance while Bokuto was out playing volleyball all around the world.

It’s selfish, _he’s_ selfish. He’s always been selfish, always been a control-freak, always been unwilling to consider the fact that Bokuto is just as much an adult as he is. He can’t go back. He can’t be with Bokuto again. He’s not good enough. He doesn’t deserve him. Bokuto deserves someone who will treat him with respect and let him make his own decisions. He doesn’t deserve Akaashi-- smart-ass, overbearing, inadequate Akaashi. Akaashi, who will end a relationship without even thinking about how the other will feel, without even caring. Who will walk out on him without looking back. God, it was so stupid. Why did he do that? Why did he leave? Because they wouldn’t be able to deal with the distance between them? No, _Akaashi_ wouldn’t be able to deal with the distance between them. It was all about him, all of it, and he hates it, hates _himself_ , because how could he do that to the love of his life? How cruel can one person be?

The guilt lasts for days, weeks, _months_ , until Akaashi is hurting so badly that he can't bear it anymore. He can't stand the loneliness, the feeling of coming home to cold sheets and a clean kitchen. He can't stand seeing his shoes sitting neatly by the door, unbothered by anyone carelessly placing theirs beside his', and he also can't stand the fact that there are no shoes beside his'. 

Over time, his feelings become a muddled mess, but every time he comes home to his clean, impeccable apartment, the mess of his feelings begin to disappear too. 

He goes about his days feeling no sadness and no happiness, no pain and no excitement. He just wakes, eats, works, sleeps, and repeats. He doesn't mope, doesn't blow up at anxious interns just trying to do their jobs, doesn't laugh, doesn't cry, doesn't feel.

He feels nothing, and he can't say that he hates it.

It isn't until he's talking with Kenma about Bokuto making it to the Olympics that the shock of what happened just six months ago sets in and he really begins to fathom what happened. The emotion hits him like a serve to the face, and he feels a horrible sense of déjà vu when he struggles to breathe and tries to understand what it is that he's feeling. It takes him a few hours to realize that he's grieving. 

It's really quite odd that he hadn't done it yet, honestly. It's been months. This should be done and over with by now. Yet, here he is, lying in bed and clutching a pillow to his chest as silent sobs rack his body. He almost can't believe that Bokuto is not with him, and that he will never get him back. 

He thinks back to all the nights they spent wrapped up in each other, all of the laughs they shared, all of the firsts they experienced together-- first date, first kiss, first love. He reminisces on their first year together, the days when Akaashi would spend his weekends at Bokuto’s apartment, when they’d text each other so much that it felt like they were still going to the same school, when Akaashi finally graduated high school and they were able to see each other whenever they wanted. 

He wonders what happened to those days, when his feelings of unworthiness began to settle in, when he began to tell himself over and over that he was not good enough for Bokuto. He supposes that it’s always been that way. After all, who could possibly be good enough for a star like him? Another star, perhaps. But Akaashi wasn’t one. He was a mere human, blessed to be in the presence of such a blinding phenomenon. 

But he gave it up-- gave all of it up. All because he didn’t want to try to make it work. His stomach twists with self-loathing, and all there is to do is cry. 

When his tears have finally run dry and his eyes are permanently swollen, he stands up from his bed and goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. He doesn't spare a look in the mirror as he blows his nose and washes his face, instead focusing on the hot water on his skin. _Hot water, hmm?_ he thinks. _Maybe I should take a nice, hot shower._

And that's exactly what he does.

The shower works wonders for the tension in his muscles, easing him into a state of total relaxation and warming his frozen heart. He stands under the water for long minutes, just feeling it on his skin, before he actually begins to wash up. While he does so, he lets his mind wander to a place that it hasn't been in half a year. He wonders how Bokuto is doing, how excited he is to be going to the 2021 Olympics, what his face looked like when he heard the news. He wonders if he hugged the person closest to him (he desperately wishes that he had been that person), if he shouted _Hey! Hey! Hey!_ in that boisterous voice of his, or if he got the news alone in an empty apartment with nothing but pictures to celebrate with him.

Akaashi quickly quells that thought, as it only makes him feel guilty for not having been there with him. 

He is so blissed out that he even contemplates calling Bokuto, but after careful consideration, he settles for just texting him instead. It's simple, but sincere.

**to: Bokuto-san**

_Congrats on making it to the Olympics, Ace xx_

He waits no longer than two minutes for a reply. He tries not to think about the fact that Bokuto may very well be spending this time on his phone instead of celebrating this accomplishment with the people he loves.

**from: Bokuto-san**

_thanks, kaashi!!_

Akaashi does not read too closely into the next message that he sends, opting to leave his brain out of the conversation for once.

**to: Bokuto-san**

_Are you free right now?_

Yet again, Bokuto replies in an instant. 

**from: Bokuto-san**

_sure am! all my friends ditched me :'(_

The message makes Akaashi frown, and before he knows it, he's sitting in an Izakaya having drinks and yakiniku with Bokuto Koutarou, top ranked wing spiker, Olympic level volleyball player, his ex-boyfriend, and the love of his life.

They make light conversation, getting used to the feeling of being in the same space as each other again, though this phase does not last long. Soon, they’re exchanging banter like old times, reminiscing on their high school days and their shared memories. Bokuto regales him with hyperbolic accounts of his times with the Black Jackals, and in turn Akaashi humors him with stories of Tenma-san working on Zom’bish, to which Bokuto responds with much more laughter than is strictly necessary.

They carefully avoid speaking about the three-year time period that they were together. 

Despite the obvious elephant in the room that they are both utterly choosing to ignore, they have a great time together. It’s almost as if no time has passed, but Akaashi knows it has. He can feel the tension pulsating in the air, though neither of them speaks on it. If it were anyone else that he was having drinks with, Akaashi would consider the night to have been perfect. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was Bokuto, and the knowledge that they would never be as close as they once were feels like a knife in his chest, though he knows he deserves it.

Yet, he can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope at the prospect of spending time with Bokuto again. Even if they couldn’t be together, they could be friends, and Akaashi would learn to live with that if it meant having the owl haired man back in his life.

So the next week, when he sees Bokuto again for coffee (or hot chocolate in Bokuto’s case), he tells himself that it’s enough. The week after that, when they meet up with their old high school friends for dinner to congratulate Bokuto on making it to the Olympics, he tells himself that it’s enough. He tells himself that it’s enough when he shares his umbrella with Bokuto during the walk to the train station, tells himself that it’s enough when he opens his apartment door and is greeted with an empty bed, tells himself it’s enough when he makes plans to see Bokuto yet again the following week for lunch. It’s not enough, it _isn’t,_ but he’s not about to ruin this thing they have going on, not again.

Especially not when he’s feeling so blindingly happy at the moment. 

He doesn’t know when the numbness began to fade away, when emotion began to filter back into his system, yet here he is, smiling at one of the interns when he walks into work that day, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation when he sees that Kenma is doing a twelve-hour live stream on his youtube channel, blushing ever-so-slightly when Bokuto exclaims _“You’re the best, Akaashi!”_ after he pays for coffee that day.

He’s happy. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but he is. Ever since Bokuto reentered his life, he’s felt invincible, like he could take on the world if he wanted to. For once, he doesn’t think about the things going wrong in his life, doesn’t scold Tenma-san for getting too close for comfort to a deadline, doesn’t wish that he could have more. He’s happy now, feels it in every fibre of his being, hears it in every word that he speaks, sees it every time he looks at himself in the mirror.

The feeling doesn’t fade when he meets Bokuto for drinks that night, or when they decide to head back to his apartment to watch a movie. They walk together in the moonlight, making their way to the train station. Akaashi lets Bokuto lead, though he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t still remember what stop to get off at, what streets to take to get to his building, what floor his apartment is on. 

He settles onto the (oh-so familiar) couch while Bokuto heads into the kitchen to grab them a few snacks and scrolls through Netflix to find something to watch. He hasn’t yet decided between his two options when Bokuto comes and sits down next to him, a bit too close to be considered friendly, but far enough away that it isn’t inherently romantic either. Akaashi pretends that he doesn’t notice the way their knees brush together whenever one of them shifts, which also means that he doesn’t move away to stop it from happening. He isn’t quite ready to leave by the time the movie ends, and by the looks of it, Bokuto isn’t either, seeing as he immediately goes to turn on another one. 

Halfway through the movie, Bokuto falls asleep. His head has somehow found its way into Akaashi’s lap, and Akaashi’s hand is gently carding through his hair as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It isn’t. Akaashi doesn’t realize this, however, until his lips are halfway to Bokuto’s temple, ready to kiss him in his sleep. He nearly jerks back, but he doesn’t want to disturb the man’s rest, so he controls himself long enough to sit up slowly, carefully shifting so that Bokuto’s head is no longer in his lap. He stands quietly, cautiously, and walks over to where his shoes are waiting for him, but when he goes to open the door, Bokuto stops him in his tracks. 

“‘Kaashi?” he says quietly, golden eyes blinking open to peer at him in the dark. “What’re you doing?” 

Akaashi sighs. This is exactly what he’d been trying to prevent from happening. “I’m leaving, Bokuto-san.”

“Why?” 

“I-” Akaashi stops. It’s quite the question. Why _is_ he leaving? “It’s late.”

Bokuto blinks and sits up, eyes flickering over to the glowing clock on the oven. The time reads 2:52. “How are you going to get home?” Akaashi has no answer for this. Bokuto knows. “Listen, just stay the night. You can sleep on the couch, if you want. Or you can sleep in the bed with me.” He pauses. Akaashi wonders if he notices his incredulous expression. He probably doesn’t. It’s quite dark in here. “Actually, you probably should sleep in the bed with me. This couch is kinda uncomfortable,” he says.

Akaashi’s eyes flicker towards the door once more. “Bokuto-san, I couldn’t-”

“Akaashi,” he cuts him off. “Come sleep in the bed. We’re friends, right?” Akaashi wonders if he isn’t imagining the sadness in Bokuto’s voice as he says it. He hopes he is, because he hates it.

“Of course, Bokuto-san,” he says. “Can you lend me something to sleep in, then?”

He sees Bokuto nod in the darkness and follows him back to his bedroom. Bokuto hands him a shirt and a pair of shorts to change into, and it takes Akaashi less than two seconds to realize that they’re his own, left here nearly eight months ago (along with his heart). The shirt is large and smells like Bokuto, but the shorts fit perfectly, just as they always did. He walks over to the bed and finds Bokuto sitting on the edge, waiting for him. 

“You could’ve gone to sleep,” he whispers.

He just barely makes out Bokuto’s half smile in the darkness. “I wanted to make sure the clothes fit.”

Akaashi’s face melds into a half smile of its own. The atmosphere is entirely too reminiscent of the nights they spent together just months ago, and he struggles to fight the impulse to walk over and begin cuddling with Bokuto like he would have then. Instead, he stays standing, peering at him through the shadows. 

“Well these _are_ my shorts,” he says.

Bokuto chuckles, a hollow thing, humorless. “Yeah, you left them here when you-” he cuts himself off as if he can’t bear to say the words aloud. Akaashi doesn’t blame him; he doesn’t think he’d be able to hear them either. 

“Yeah…” he trails off. He doesn’t know what to say.

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because now Bokuto is standing up, is walking towards him, is bringing his hands up to grab his waist, moving them up to his chest, his shoulders, the sides of his neck, and finally, his jaw. He leans forward, holding his forehead to Akaashi’s, looking him in the eyes. 

“Akaashi,” he whispers, but in the tense silence of the room, it’s as good as a shout. “Akaashi, I love you. I loved you for so long and I still love you. I think about you _every day- _”__

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi can feel a tear drip down onto his hand. He’s not sure if it's his’ or Bokuto’s. It doesn’t matter.

 _“Keiji,”_ he says, so brokenly that Akaashi wonders how he could do this to him, Bokuto Koutarou, the kindest, most sincere man in the world.

And just like that, his feelings from all those months ago start coming back, one by one. Regret, frustration, guilt, and grief all take turns battering away at his heart, pulling him further away from reality, deeper into the hole that he’d fallen into when he first left Bokuto’s apartment. Over and over, new waves of emotion overtake him, but just as he’s about to decide that he needs to pull away from Bokuto, needs to leave before he puts himself in the position to hurt him again, another emotion makes itself known.

Greed.

He feels greedy in the way that he looks at Bokuto, like he just can’t get enough, like he wants more despite what he did to him. He thinks back to the times when he tried to convince himself that his friendship was enough, knowing deep down that he would always yearn for something deeper. He feels greedy because he knew that he should never have agreed to come here tonight, but he did anyway because he wanted to- _needed to_ see Bokuto like this again, lounging on the couch, preparing snacks in the kitchen, lying with his head in Akaashi’s lap.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel greedy right now, with Bokuto’s hand cupping his face, his eyes looking at him so vulnerably, so _lovingly_ , like he’d give Akaashi the world if he just asked, like he knows that Akaashi would do the same, and in a heartbeat. He’s right, of course. He always is, one way or another.

The greed is all encompassing, sweeping up every ounce of longing that he’s ever felt for Bokuto and shoving it into his chest all at once, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to even speak until he acknowledges it. And Akaashi wants to, he _so_ wants to, but he can’t, not yet, because even with Bokuto practically throwing himself at him, uncertainty claws at his throat, holding him back. He has to ask him, _has_ to ask him if he’s wanting more than he’s willing to give, even though he knows that the answer is no, even when he knows that Bokuto will happily take everything that Akaashi gives him and even demand more, because Bokuto is greedy too, and that’s what makes the two of them so fucking _perfect_ together.

He looks up into Bokuto’s glassy eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, because he knows, of course he does, but he needs a verbal confirmation.

“Yes- _yes_ , Keiji, I’m sure, I love you, I love you so much it _hurts_ , God, Keiji-”

 _“Koutarou,”_ he whispers, equally as broken, and then he gives into his greed.

Kissing him is just like he remembers. It’s perfect, _he’s_ perfect. All of the emotions he felt a minute ago have been washed away, replaced by the feeling of Bokuto’s lips on his, his hands on his jaws, his tongue sliding against his own. He tastes the same, tastes like himself, tastes so delicious that Akaashi would gladly take him over any food item passed his way. He wants to stay in this moment forever. He grabs Bokuto's hips and he pulls him closer, craving him, wanting to touch every part of him that he can reach. His hands slide up and down his sides, and a whimper escapes Bokuto’s lips.

“Keiji,” he moans breathlessly. “Please, I-” he stops with a choked off gasp as Akaashi sinks his teeth into the curve of his throat, wanting to taste him just a little bit more. “‘Kaashi, I need you, please-” Akaashi’s hands slide lower, gripping his ass through his pajama pants. Bokuto’s hips jerk, head falling to Akaashi’s shoulder. _”Keijiiiii,”_ he whines, his voice so small that Akaashi can’t help but to give him what he wants.

“Okay,” he sighs out, pushing the taller man backwards towards the bed, removing their shirts as they go. “Okay.”

Akaashi was never one to deny Bokuto anything, and he doesn’t start now. He maps out his body with his tongue, paying extra attention to all the spots that he knows will drive him crazy. He leaves marks all over him- his chest, his neck, his torso- and Bokuto eats it up, takes it all and begs for more. Akaashi gives him everything he has and then some, never relenting for even a moment. They’ve already spent too much time apart; he wants to keep his mouth on Bokuto for as long as possible.

He kisses all over his stomach, relishing in the faint giggles his feather-light kisses pull from him. He kisses down the V of his hips, hooks his fingers beneath his waistband and tugs his pants off, then does the same for his boxers. He takes his cock into his mouth, down his throat, swallows around it, swirls his tongue around the tip. He wants to give him everything, and the noises that Bokuto makes above him are just further encouragement to do so. He pulls off of his cock, going lower, _lower, lower_ until his tongue makes contact with his rim, and Bokuto cries out, a mangled version of Akaashi’s name escaping his lips. Akaashi fucks him with his tongue, getting lost in the taste of him. He’s so good, _so good_ , and Akaashi can’t wait any longer.

__

__

“Lube, please,” he murmurs, sticking a finger in beside his tongue. Bokuto releases a broken _hah-ahh_ before complying, the bottle being held out to him by a trembling hand. Akaashi takes it, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before pushing in two. He bites his lip at Bokuto’s answering keen and begins to scissor him, hand speeding up as Bokuto rocks down, chasing more of the feeling.

Akaashi isn’t thick, but he takes his time preparing him with a third finger anyway, loving the way Bokuto loses himself in the sensations. But he wants to give him more, because he’s Akaashi, and he wants to give Bokuto the world, so he crooks his fingers just so and watches as Bokuto’s head snaps back and a tortured sob rips its way from his throat.

“ _Akaashiiiii,_ I’m ready, please, I-”

“I know,” he says, because he does. “I know.”

He pulls his fingers out and takes off his own shorts and underwear, his shirt having been discarded sometime earlier. Bokuto leans forward and strokes Akaashi’s cock a few times, even though he’s already fully hard, and he can’t help the way his hips buck forward. He leans down, capturing Bokuto’s lips with his own, moaning into his mouth when Bokuto’s thumb brushes his tip.

“Missed you,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Kou, I love you so much-”

“It’s okay,” Bokuto says, unoccupied hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You’re back, you’re here, so I forgive you.”

Akaashi wants to tell him that it’s not quite that simple, that he has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to him, but Bokuto doesn’t let him. He pulls him down by the back of his neck into a deep kiss, only pulling away only to murmur a quick “come _on_ ” as he pushes his ass against Akaashi’s cock.

And Akaashi does, because he has to, because he loves him, because he’d do anything to show that to him, even if it meant following him on all fours for the rest of his life and begging for his forgiveness (though he’s sure that Bokuto would never make him do anything as drastic as that). He fucks him with slow, deep strokes, making sure that he feels every inch of it, feels surrounded by Akaashi, just as Akaashi feels all encompassed by him. He obeys his pleas, going harder, going faster, kissing him, touching him, loving him, loving him, loving him so _fucking_ much, and then he climaxes, buried to the hilt in his ass, filling him with his release, Bokuto himself following not long after.

Akaashi pulls out and collapses onto the bed beside him, trying to get his breathing back in order. When he does, he looks over to the side, not surprised to see Bokuto already staring back at him.

He smiles. “I love you,” he says, and it’s true, he does.

Bokuto smiles back, golden eyes glittering in the darkness, and draws him in for a soft, lingering kiss. “I love you too.”

And that’s all they need to say before they get up to take a shower together, basking in each other’s presence, silently pleading to the other never to be apart again.

Standing under the hot water of the shower with the love of his life, Akaashi feels free. He finally feels free to love him in every way that he knows how, knows that Bokuto isn’t going anywhere, no matter how much distance is put between them. He wishes that he’d had this faith in the beginning, that all of this hadn’t needed to happen for him to feel like this. _But_ , he supposes, _such is life._ He looks up at Bokuto, who’s currently spiking his hair up with the suds from his shampoo, and smiles.

Yeah, such is life, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry-not-sorry about the angst (you know you loved it... maybe). Kudos and comments are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm (not) sorry about all the angst lol. This idea was just screaming for me to write it, angst and all, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways! Kudos and comments are appreciated<3


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